


far away truths

by raikkonen (armario)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/raikkonen
Summary: He let his mind wander a little too much, distracted by Carlos' low voice directly through the headset, and may or may not have had a semi all through their match, fumbling shots and tackles.





	far away truths

Lando chucks the headset on the desk and gets up to go and pee, Carlos' triumphant laughter ringing in his ears. He should have better things to do than get absolutely nailed at Fifa on his weekend off. He should be using it as an opportunity for some time away from his teammate, not listening to him whoop and screech with a crackly mic quality in his ears at 1am. 

When he gets back from the bathroom, Carlos is still celebrating. 

"Mate, it wasn't that good," he mutters.

"I know," Carlos answers, settling down with a contented sigh. "Just wanted to rub it in."

"I'm just glad I wasn't streaming," he replies, with a trace of good humour. 

Lando's not actually that mad- well, maybe there's something a little bit infuriating about Carlos beating him at _everything-_ but he's kind of restless and tense. Spending casual time like this with his teammate always reminds him of what he can't have. 

He admitted to Carlos he's gay in a depressive episode brought on by the volume of alcohol required to forget your DNF. Listing off the things that get him down; like knowing he'll probably never find love, or even someone to take the edge off his constant loneliness. He remembers crying into his pillow and Carlos' hand on his shoulder, but at some point, he'd fallen into a tearful, fitful sleep, and they'd never even spoken about it again. 

He was worried- and he knows now Carlos would kill him for it- that he'd made things weird, that Carlos might feel awkward around a gay teammate especially when they're always in such close proximity, but everything turned out fine.

Carlos got even more protective of him, always checking up to see if he was okay. It made Lando squirm, being treated like Carlos' little baby brother, instead of someone he could ever see in a romantic or sexual context. 

He tries to take it on the chin. He's a new-day-new-dawn kind of person, and he tries not to let this shit get him down. It's difficult; when Carlos teases him with flirtatious jokes, and God, when he starts touching him or playfighting with him- Lando loses it. He let his mind wander a little too much, distracted by Carlos' low voice directly through the headset, and may or may not have had a semi all through their match, fumbling shots and tackles. 

"Want to go again?" Carlos asks.

"Yeah, go on then, but I'm turning in after this," he agrees. Turning in means having a shameless wank and falling into bed hounded by dreams that Carlos is going to reject him, and in turn, his family, his friends, his employers.

"I started another match because I didn't know how long you would be. I have got about ten minutes left on this game," Carlos tells him. 

_Ten minutes. _

_Ten minutes. That's a long time._

_It's enough._

Lando swallows. His hands are unsteady as he pushes down the waistband of his sweatpants and rests his hand on his cock, starting to fill out properly. Instead of discouraging him as it rightly should, the realisation of how undisputably _wrong_ this is makes him harder.

He takes his dick out of his boxers, swiping his thumb over the tip to gather some precome and ease the way a little. He could go to the bathroom and get some lube, but that might be too far. He needs to be able to mute his mic if he ends up getting too loud. 

Carlos has gone quiet.

"So what are you doing tomorrow, then?" Lando asks, trying to make it sound innocent. He needs to hear Carlos talk. 

"Oh, I don't know. Probably just going to spend some time with my friends in the city." He keeps talking, launching into a story about how he met this one crazy guy his first time in Mexico, and Lando is both hanging on his every word, and not registering any of it, as he starts to jerk himself off.

It's hard to keep quiet. He bites his lip to stop himself from making any noises, although if he doesn't add in the occasional 'yeah' and 'mm-hm', then Carlos will get annoyed that he's not listening. He wants to mute the headset so Carlos won't hear his breathing picking up. There's also something horribly arousing about this whole situation, trying to be silent in his attempts to get himself off to the sound of his teammate's voice.

_What the fuck are you doing? _screams the part of his brain that deals with morality. It's getting quieter, though, with every twist of his grip at the head of his cock and the rapid increase of the pace he sets into jacking off. He loses himself for a while, biting into the flesh of his forearm to silence the quiet moans that threaten to escape and give the game away.

How would he explain himself? There's no way. No excuse. He could never look Carlos in the eyes again. 

"-Lando?"

It startles him a little. It reminds him he's not just watching porn here, this is supposedly a two-sided conversation. He needs to be careful. Careful doesn't make up part of horny Lando's vocabulary.

"Yeah?" he affirms, a little breathless. His hand stills for a second, and when he stops, his dick jerks in his grasp, precome wetting his fingers. He'll go mad if he can't finish. 

"I just asked if you wanted to come," Carlos answers. He sounds suspicious.

Lando chokes. _"What?"_

"...Come to the bar with me on Wednesday?"

"Oh. Um- right. Yeah, sure."

"It will be full of Spanish speakers, but you'll have a good time, they have really good cocktails. Don't worry; I'll look after you. They'll be making fun of you and you won't even realise," Carlos laughs. Then he yells furiously, _"Hijo de puta!_ That was surely a penalty!"

Lando is struck by the overwhelming urge to hear Carlos speak Spanish. However predictable it is, there's something unfathomably hot about it. 

"Making fun of me how?"

"I don't know. Calling you little. The same kind of thing I do," Carlos grins.

"Tell me what it would sound like in Spanish, then, so I know what to listen out for," Lando tries to persuade him.

He picks up the pace touching himself again, leaning back.

"Well, you won't remember. _¡Es tan pequeño! ¿Cuántos años tiene él? ¿Es este tu hijo, Carlos?"_

Lando's other hand comes down from tracing a nipple to cup his balls, and he arches his back. 

"What else do they say?" His voice sounds dangerously unsteady. It's so good, the tight grip on his cock, the fingers teasing his balls, Carlos' accent just for him sending shivers down his spine.

"Just, stuff like, _eres lo peor compañero de equipo que he tenido."_

Lando doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, he's bucking up into his own fist now. He's so fucking close, he just needs...

"Y-yeah? What does that mean? What else?"

"Ah, it's hard to translate. They say stuff like..." the smile is evident in his voice, _"Yo sé que estás haciendo. ¿Piensas que soy estúpido? Si no fuera atrapado aquí, podría venir a ayudarte."_

Lando comes. He holds his breath without even realising as he rides out his orgasm in desperate silence, coating his hand, his heart pounding, the sensation overwhelming his whole body. _Fuuuuck, _he thinks, throwing his head back, slumping exhausted into the chair.

He lets out an unintentionally shaky exhale, trembling a little from the intensity of it. He can't believe what he just did. He cannot believe it. Although, he doesn't think he's ever come harder in his life, and he's half-impressed with his own boldness. Seeing as he got away with it, he won't beat himself up too much.

His _teammate._ _Wow._ He just did weird, one-sided phone sex with Carlos. When he puts it like that, it does no justice to the eroticism of the actual experience.

It took the edge off, but now he just wants Carlos even more, wants him on hand for a cuddle after he gets him off, murmuring Spanish in his ear.

"You okay?" Carlos asks curiously. "You sound a bit out of breath."

Lando flushes in hot shame. "Uh, yeah, man, I'm fine. I just have to go to the toilet again. Um. Wait up for me."

"Okay."

Carlos sounds weirdly amused. Lando blinks himself out of his post-orgasmic daze and stumbles into the bathroom to clean himself up. 

**Author's Note:**

> i had the idea for this back in like. august
> 
> find me on tumblr: @landolait


End file.
